


Playacting is For Fools

by Idrelle_Miocovani



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drama, Friendship, Gen, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:43:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3827692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idrelle_Miocovani/pseuds/Idrelle_Miocovani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being bullied by her friends, a young girl meets a gruff, plainspoken companion of the Inquisitor who offers her some words of wisdom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playacting is For Fools

**Author's Note:**

> This was written back in February as part of a gift for my partner (since we’d spent a good chunk of Christmas playing DA: Inquisition). In this context, the Inquisitor is a female Qunari mage named Sinéas Adaar; Hawke is a male warrior; the Hero of Ferelden is a female warrior called Emilia Cousland and she supported Anora as queen, made Loghain a Grey Warden and caused Alistair to abandon Ferelden and become a drunk. 
> 
> This short story takes place shortly after the refugees arrive and settle into Skyhold.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

The air in the mountains was chilled that day. Branches creaked as they bent to and fro in the wind; stream waters rustled under thin sheaves of ice; breath transformed into puffs of mist that looked like dragon smoke. In fact, many people remarked on the latter comparison – dragons were a very popular topic for the people of Skyhold. 

And then there were the children. 

A small group had gathered by a low, ramshackle wall running through the lower courtyard near the stables. They were raggedly dressed – the mark of Haven refugees who had somehow managed to drag their way to the ancient fortress after the harrowing destruction of their last home. And though dirt smudged their hands and faces, their fingernails were cracked and chewed, and they didn’t have enough layers to be outside comfortably in this cold weather, this ragtag group gave off an aura of childish glee. 

At this particular moment, many of them were twirling around in the snowy mud, enchanted by the way their breath evaporated in the cold air. Suddenly, one boy – red-headed and larger than the rest – roared as loudly as he could and began to chase the others. He curled his hands into claws and dove at them, snapping his teeth in a fair imitation of a real dragon. His pretend prey shrieked in mock fear and ran for the safety of the wall. 

“A dragon! A dragon!” 

“Find cover!” 

“It’s going to eat us!” 

“Rarrrrrr!” roared Will, the red-headed dragon boy. _  
_

A little ways away, a tiny girl with a long red braid slammed her foot into the icy mud of the courtyard. Katrina held her head high as she surveyed the scene and brandished a two-foot long stick in her hands. 

“Begone, dragon!” she cried imperiously. “You will not harm the people of Haven!” 

The children cowering behind the wall cautiously poked their heads up. They stared rapturously at Katrina as they whispered and pointed eagerly. “The Inquisitor! The Inquisitor! She’ll save us!” 

“Rarrrrrr!” Will said. He flapped his arms wildly and swung around to face the little Inquisitor. He stood on tip-toe, arms raised, fingers curled, mouth open wide, lips curled back to show teeth. Katrina stood her ground. “I am your doom, Inquisitor!” Will shouted, trying his best to hiss between words. “I am your death! No force can stop me, for I am an archdemon!” 

“Archdemon, smarch-demon,” Katrina said. “I know a girl who had an archdemon for _breakfast.”_ She twirled her stick and promptly clubbed herself in the face. She plopped down on her rear end, more out of surprise than shock or pain. She was up again in a moment, trying desperately to wipe damp snow and mud off her bottom. Her chorus of watchers giggled. Frowning, she twirled her stick again and jutted a hand out in front of her. 

Nothing happened. 

Will stared at Katrina. 

Katrina glared at Will. 

Their chorus of watchers giggled. 

“Dummy!” Katrina shouted. “You’re supposed to react!” 

“But I dunno what you just did!” 

“Ice magic. _Obviously.”_

Will paused. “Don’t look like no ice, now do it?” 

Katrina glowered. “You’re supposed to use your _imagination_ , you big dolt.” 

“I am not a dolt, Katrina! I’m gonna tell Mum!” 

“I don’t care! I threw a big ol’ ice ball at you, and that’s that. Dragons don’t like ice balls! You should be knocked over in pain right now.” 

“‘Scuse me!” a voice called. For a brief moment, Will and Katrina were separated as they stepped back to let the big, hulking man through. He was leading a gorgeous horse with a red coat – _like my hair,_ Katrina thought. _Like_ her _hair._

Katrina stared at the horse in awe as it and its owner disappeared into the stables. 

“Look,” Will continued, ignoring the horse, “I can’t even tell when you’re doing what if all you’re doing is waving that stick around!” 

Katrina tossed her braid over her shoulder. “Then make it up. Mages don’t use speaking when they cast spells!” 

“How’d you know?” 

“‘Cause I know.” 

“You don’t know _everything.”_

“I do!” 

“No, you don’t!” Will crossed his arms. “You just make stuff up and pretend it’s true.” 

The children behind the wall yawned. 

“I’m cold,” Mina said. 

“I’m bored,” Nellie said. “Can we go home now?” 

“No!” Katrina snapped. “We’re not done yet.” 

“But… but… nothing’s happening!” Mina protested. 

“Yeah, nothing’s happening!” Lucy echoed. 

The children stumbled across the crusted mud towards Katrina and Will. 

“We’re going to go home now,” Nellie said, pushing her hair behind her ears. 

“But I only got here!” Katrina protested. “I had to find my stick—” 

“Yeah,” Tom said, “but it didn’t have to take that long!” 

“And it doesn’t even look like a mage staff!” Mina piped up. “It’s too short!” 

“How come you always get to be the Inquisitor?” Lucy. “Why can’t I be?” 

“Or me?” Tom said. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Lucy sniffed. “You can’t be the Inquisitor ‘cause you’re a _boy.”_

“That’s not fair!” Tom moaned. 

“You can be Hawke,” Lucy said, haughtily raising her chin. 

“But… but… Hawke’s _boring,”_ Tom muttered. “I like the Hero of Ferelden. And the Inquisitor. They’re awesome.” 

“But you _can’t_ be them,” Lucy said, “they’re _girls._ If you don’t like Hawke, you can be… hmm… Alistair.” 

Tom frowned, confused. “Who’s Alistair?” 

Lucy shrugged. “I dunno – some guy. No one remembers.” 

“Stop it!” Katrina said. “I can’t hear anything with all this… this…” Frustrated at her loss of words, she ground her teeth and glowered at her playmates. “You don’t complain that Will _always_ gets to be the dragon!” 

Mina shrugged. “That’s ‘cause he’s the biggest.” _  
_

_“And_ he’s the best dragon!” Lucy added. 

“Fine,” Katrina said. “I get to be the Inquisitor because _I_ have red-hair.” She pulled on her long braid. 

“But you don’t have horns.” 

“That’s not _my_ fault—” _  
_

_“And_ you’re not tall enough!” 

“Nobody has horns and no one’s tall enough!” Katrina shouted. “We’re not… we’re not…” 

“Not what?” Tom asked. _  
_

_“Oxmen,”_ Katrina said in a low voice. 

“Why are you whispering?” Lucy said. 

“My mum says it’s a bad thing to say,” Katrina explained. 

“My mum says it all the time,” Lucy said, shrugging. “I don’t see what’s wrong with it – that’s what they look like.” 

“Not all of them,” Will said. “Some don’t have horns.” 

“That’s what my daddy says, too,” Tom added. 

“Mine, too,” Mina said. 

“Mine doesn’t like her,” Nellie said. 

“The Inquisitor?” Will said, his eyes going wide. “After all she’s done for us?” 

“He says none of the bad things would have happened if it hadn’t been for her,” Mina said matter-of-factly. “She’s not gonna save the world.” 

“Why?” Katrina said. “I think she will.” 

Nellie shrugged. “She’s a… a what-you-call-it. Horn-thing. Qunari. _And_ a mage.” She chipped at the hardened mud with her boot. “My daddy says we need someone like the Hero of Ferelden. A real hero. A human hero. And none of this magic stuff.” 

“The Inquisitor _is_ a real hero.” 

“A real hero doesn’t have horns,” Nellie snapped. “Only demons do.” 

Katrina snorted. “Oh _please._ Like _you’ve_ seen a demon.” 

Nellie pulled her scarf closer around her. “Okay, maybe I haven’t, but my cousin did! At Haven. And he said it had horns! And – and – they’re weird, don’t you think? Why would you want to have two tree branches sticking out of your head?” 

“I think they’re pretty,” Katrina said. 

“Only because you think the Inquisitor’s pretty,” Nellie snapped. “Bet you can’t even say her name.” 

“I _can,”_ Katrina said, stomping her foot into the ground. 

“Say it.” 

“Suh… Sin… See…” 

The children giggled – even Will. 

Katrina flushed. “Fine. Adaar. I can say _that.”_

Nellie rolled her eyes. “Nice try, Kat.” 

Katrina brandished her stick. “Okay, _fine_. Go if you want to. But I’m going to stay and play.” 

The children exchanged looks. 

“I’m going,” Nellie said. “It’s a dumb game anyway. It’s stupid. It’s playing pretend… it’s playacting. I told my dad and he says it’s for stupid little fools who don’t know any better. Why would anyone want to pretend to be a mage – or an oxman? We should be happy we’re normal.” She marched off, head held high. At the gate, she paused and turned around. “Are you lot coming or not?” she asked. “My mum said she’d have soup ready for all of us!” _  
_

_And Katrina’s not invited,_ her tone implied. 

Katrina gripped her stick and wished it was a real staff and that she could do real magic. Her life would be so much easier with real magic. 

“Soup!” Mina exclaimed. 

“Now that you mention it, I am kind of hungry,” Tom said. 

“Soup sounds good… I’m so cold!” Lucy said. “Come on, Will! We can play dragon and Inquisitor later!” 

She grabbed his hand and dragged him off as Mina and Tom sprinted for the gate. Will shot a look of apology over his shoulder at Katrina and ran to follow the rest of their friends. 

Katrina watched them go, then slumped down on the wall. She curled up into a little ball, hunching her shoulders and hugging her knees. This always happened when Nellie was around. Pretty, rich Nellie – well, rich for Skyhold. Her family had been big-time merchants or something back in Haven; most of their possessions were burned when the big army attacked. Her mother had died. Apparently the Inquisitor herself had tried to save her, but chose to save someone else. Maybe that’s why Nellie’s father hated the Inquisitor. Why else would someone hate the person who was their saviour? 

Katrina wanted to feel sorry for Nellie, but she couldn’t. Nellie acted like she knew everything, like she owned everything, like she was the only person affected by what had happened. Katrina didn’t remember much of the attack – burning lights, mostly. And her father shouting at her to run. Nellie might have lost her mother, but Katrina lost her father. Some people – like Tom and Mina – didn’t even have parents any more. _  
_

_I hate her,_ Katrina thought miserably. 

Immediately, an image of her mother flashed through her head: sleeves rolled up, face sweating, arms straining as she churned butter. “Don’t take it to heart, Kat,” she said. “Now Nellie’s family’s wading through the mud like everyone else, the only thing they get to keep is their haughty attitude. And that won’t last long. So, chin-up, okay?” 

Katrina hated keeping her chin up. Keeping her chin up meant smiling on the outside when you were crying on the inside; keeping your chin up meant ignoring when you were hurt to spare someone else’s feelings; keeping your head up was one giant, never-ending game of pretend. And while Katrina loved to play pretend, she only played the games that mattered to her. 

She sniffed once, and then suddenly the tears came in a downpour. 

She heard the snow crunch as someone sat down beside her. She sniffed – the air smelled distinctly of horse. 

“Stop crying, girl,” a gruff voice said. “I’ve seen too many children cry of late – save your tears for when you need them.” 

“I’m _not_ crying.” 

“Oh, yeah? Then what’s your head doing buried in your arms?” 

“Thinking.” 

“Oh, I see. Best shut out the world, for the best thoughts are discovered in a total void.” 

Katrina unwrapped her arms from around her knees and raised her head. “That doesn’t make any sense.” 

The man sighed. “I’ve been spending too much time with a nonsensical dwarf who thinks he’s a great writer. But I see you’ve decided to grace the world with your presence – welcome back.” 

Katrina wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. 

He wasn’t the most remarkable fellow she had ever seen. Dressed plainly, with plain features, plain brown hair and beard, he was very unremarkable. Unlike the Inquisitor’s friends and followers – whom you could see from a mile away, due to the flashy colours and patterns some of them wore, as well as the self-important way they held themselves – this man reeked of “normal”. He probably even had a normal name. 

“Who are you?” she asked. 

“Name’s Blackwall,” he said. 

“Oh,” she said. _So… not a normal name. It should be Alfred or James or something._

“I’m a friend of Sinéas—” he stopped himself. “Well, Lady Adaar, I should say. Or… the Inquisitor. I’m a friend of the Inquisitor.” He paused. “You’ll have to forgive me, I’m not used to introducing myself. I usually stand in the back and grunt when someone needs my approval.” He paused and raised an eyebrow. “Did I say something wrong?” 

Katrina, frozen, was staring wide-eyed at him. 

“Come on, kid, I need to know you’re still alive in there.” 

A strangled sound escaped Katrina’s mouth. She swallowed and tried again. “You know… _her?”_

Blackwall laughed. It wasn’t a mocking laugh – it was genuine. Katrina got the sense that though he was amused by her shock and awe, he wasn’t deliberately trying to make fun of her. “She’s not that scary, kid.” 

“I don’t think she’s scary!” Katrina blurted out. “I’ve just…. I’ve just never talked to anyone who actually… _knows_ her.” 

“Well,” Blackwall said, “I can tell you that to think she’s not scary is the wrong thing to do. If you’re the wrong person, she’s magnificently terrifying. But if you’re the right person, she’s about as intimidating as a horse.” 

Katrina stared. “…did you just compare the Inquisitor to a _horse?”_

Blackwall barked a laugh. “I guess I did. You know – tall, beautiful, and likely to kick your arse if you bother her.” He cocked his head. “But this stays between you and me. If Varric finds out about that one, he’ll never let it go. I’ve already failed to stop him calling me Shaggy.” 

Katrina looked at him blankly. 

“For the beard.” 

Katrina blinked. “Your beard doesn’t look _that_ shaggy. My dad’s was better.” 

Blackwall chuckled. 

Katrina’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a lot more cheerful that you look.” 

“This is the most I’ve laughed in the past month. I usually tend towards the quiet.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

Blackwall stood. “Come on, I have ram stew on the go out back. Since your friends were so kind to run off on you, I figure I might as well offer you something before you waste away on me.” 

He started off towards the stables. Katrina followed. The man was much taller than she had assumed – she had to run to keep up with his long strides. Blackwall glanced at her. 

“Ah, so you were crying,” he said. 

“I was not!” 

“Were you now.” 

“I’m allergic to horses.” 

“Then what are you doing hanging around the stables?” he asked, gesturing. 

“I like horses.” 

“But you said you’re allergic to them.” 

“Yeah, but that’s not gonna stop me from _looking_ at them,” Katrina said. 

Blackwall opened a side door for her and she stepped through. Immediately, her breath caught in her throat. Katrina gazed around the stables and smiled. Dust motes danced in the streams of sunlight that shone through the gaps in the roof. Horses of all kinds poked their heads out of their stalls, shaking their manes and whinnying as they eyed the newcomer. A loud _screech_ came from one corner as a giant deer-like thing with massive horns raised its head. Its black satiny eyes found Katrina and it screeched again, shaking its head back and forth. Katrina breathed it all in – and immediately started sneezing. 

“Are you all right?” Blackwall said, catching her as she doubled over from the force of her sneezes. 

“I’m – _atch_ – a’right – _atch—”_ She sneezed. “Just… just – _atch_ – can’t – stand – hay – _atchew!”_ She wiped her streaming eyes with the back of her hand. “Which is really sad, because I like the smell of hay.” She sniffed, trying to force back another oncoming sneeze. “What’s that?” She pointed at the great, horned creature. 

“A hart,” Blackwall said. He smiled fondly at the animal as he approached it and gently stroked its head. “His name is Screech, after the sound he makes when he’s happy or curious or galloping. Especially galloping. Sinéas found it funny.” 

Screech _screeched._

Katrina clapped her hands around her ears. “He’s awful loud.” 

“That he is,” Blackwall said. “Did you want to look around, or do you want to eat first?” 

Katrina was torn. She really wanted nothing else than to wander around the stables and greet all of the animals, learn all of their names, pet them if she could… but her growling stomach answered for her. 

“Food it is,” Blackwall said. 

He led her out another side door at the back of the stables to a little sheltered area that had a stool placed by a cooking fire. A simmering pot was set over it. Blackwall sat down, removed his gloves and stirred his stew. Katrina stood behind him, watching. She folded her arms as she looked around, jumping from one foot to another. After a moment, Blackwall noticed what she was doing and rapidly stood up. 

“I’m sorry, lass,” he said. “I usually don’t have company. I’m an idiot. Here—” he indicated the stool. “You can sit.” 

“I— thank you.” Katrina sat. 

Blackwall crouched by the fire as he finished cooking her meal. Nothing else was said. Apparently Blackwall was a genuinely quiet person. When the stew was ready, he dished a generous portion into the only bowl he had and passed it to her, along with his only spoon. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

Blackwall shrugged. “I don’t like seeing starving kids.” 

Katrina dished stew into her mouth and was met with a confusing – but not horrid – mixture of herbs and spices. It wasn’t the greatest soup she had ever tasted, but she ate it quickly enough that she felt she had scalded her tongue. 

“You like it, eh?” Blackwall said as she put the bowl down. “Want more?” 

Katrina nodded. She was hungry and she didn’t want to seem rude. 

Blackwall passed her more stew. 

“You have good manners,” he commented. 

“Huh?” 

“You’re very nicely not saying anything about the quality of my cooking.” 

“Nothing wrong with it.” Katrina lowered her bowl and wiped her mouth. “It’s good.” 

His lips twitched, as if he were trying to force back a smile. “You’re a good liar, Katrina.” 

“How do you know my name?” 

“I heard your brother yelling it as I was getting poor Fireball to the stables.” 

Katrina raised her eyebrows. “You named the horse _Fireball?”  
_

_“I_ didn’t name her,” Blackwall muttered defensively. Even so, he seemed mildly embarrassed. 

“Can we go see her?” Katrina asked. 

Blackwall nodded and gestured towards the stable door. Katrina gently balanced her bowl and spoon on a flat rock at the fire’s edge and leaped to her feet. She was through the door in a matter of seconds, Blackwall following. 

Fireball was at the end of the stable, tossing her head and whinnying. She clearly didn’t like being stuck in a stable stall. Katrina cautiously reached out to pet her, but the fiery mare snapped at her fingers. Katrina rapidly withdrew them. 

“Hey!” she said. “What did I do to you? You’re one mean horse!” 

The mare whinnied and tossed her mane. 

“Drama queen,” Katrina muttered. 

Fireball whisked her tail. 

“Just like Nellie,” Katrina added. 

Fireball promptly took care of some bodily functions Katrina would have preferred not to witness. 

“Definitely just like Nellie,” Katrina said, holding her nose and trying not to look at the mess on the stall floor. 

“Is Nellie the one who stole all your friends away?” Blackwall asked. 

Katrina hung her head. 

“Don’t let it bother you, lass,” Blackwall continued. “Kids are kids.” _  
_

_“I’m_ a kid,” Katrina snapped. 

“That you are.” He sighed. “I supposed what I’m trying to say… people your age, sometimes they behave certain ways because they’re reacting to something. Maybe they’re jealous, maybe they’re hurt, maybe it’s just what they’ve been taught.” 

“And because of that, I should just let it go? Chin up, smile and go on?” Katrina snorted. “You sound like my mother.” 

“People tell me I have mothering instincts. Sometimes.” 

Katrina forced back a smile – she didn’t feel like responding to a joke right now. But the idea of this gruff, dirty man acting like a mother… well, it did make her smile. “Do you have kids, Mr Blackwall?” 

“Me? No.” 

“’Cause you sound like you do.” 

“No kids. Just a lot of Grey Warden recruits testing their strength in battle.” 

Katrina’s eyes widened. “You’re a Grey Warden?! Are you from Ferelden? Have you met the Hero of Ferelden? Do you know what she’s like? I heard she’s really pretty and brave and scary and she killed a dragon – well, more than that, she’s killed three dragons, plus an archdemon and apparently she has an elven lover who’s a spy – or assassin – or something and – oh! I remembered, he’s a Crow, that’s right – I keep wondering if he’s going to show up and help the Inquisition like Lady Leliana did—” 

She paused to draw breath. 

“—but that would be really exciting, wouldn’t it? I mean, like, if _Emelia Cousland_ can’t come, then what if—” 

“Whoa! Slow down, lass!” Blackwall held up his hands. “What a fountain of ‘what if’s’ you are.” 

“But wouldn’t it be really, really… I mean, wouldn’t it really help if something like that happened?” 

“I’m sure Cousland would come if she could,” Blackwall said heavily, “but I doubt that will be the case.” 

“Why?” 

“There are many strange things going on in the world these days, lass,” he replied. “And we barely have enough people to keep track of them.” 

“Oh.” Katrina folded her arms. “Maybe I can help.” 

“I’m sure you could, Katrina,” Blackwall said. “But maybe let yourself grow up a bit first?” 

“Are you saying that I’m small? ‘Cause I already know that!” Katrina lashed out with her foot. It connected with a pile of hay, which was thrown up in the air. As it descended around her shoulders in a cloud, Katrina was engulfed in a succession of sneezes. Blackwall scooped the sneezing, wheezing girl up in his arms and carried her out of the lung-debilitating stable. 

He set her down on the ground outside, where she gulped in fresh, hay-free air. 

“Better?” he asked. 

Katrina nodded, her eyes streaming. She flushed red. “I bet that never happens to the Inquisitor.” 

“No,” Blackwall said. “But then, she’s not allergic to hay. Or horses. But I can tell you she had a really bad reaction to some berries Sera had her eat on a dare. Took a day or so to stop passing gas every few minutes. You can imagine the effect that had on battles and skirmishes. Here comes the dangerous Inquisition, with a terrifying Qunari mage leading them into battle and all you can hear between battle cries are farts.” 

Katrina wrinkled her nose. “That’s gross.” 

“That’s Sera’s sense of humour.” Blackwall paused. “Sinéas found it funny, too. I have no idea why. She’s a… special lady.” 

Katrina stared at her boots. Her right foot began kicking the side of a crusted snow bank. Chipped pieces of muddied ice flew off with each rhythmic impact. “Why are you talking to me, Mr Blackwall?” she asked. “I’m no one. A nobody. And you’re a member of the Inquisition… don’t you have more important things to do than look out for some useless kid?” 

Blackwall sighed. “Is that really what you think of yourself, Katrina?” 

Katrina shrugged. 

“That’s not what I heard – when you were facing down a dragon and casting ice magic.” 

Katrina stared at him. “That’s the _Inquisitor_ who did that.” 

“And you did that, too.” 

She looked at him blankly. 

Blackwall shook his head. “Katrina, you’re underestimating yourself. Nellie thinks you’re an idiot for playing pretend, but who was watching you the entire time? Who was watching someone imagine a different world for herself and strive to make it real? Who rejected it because she was too cold and hungry to think up her own world?” 

“I don’t get it.” 

Blackwall ran an impatient hand through his hair. “Look, what I’m trying to say is... _don’t listen to Nellie._ She’s an idiot. We live in a horrible world where horrible things happen when they’re _not supposed to._ No one knows what the hell they’re doing – not me, not the Inquisition, especially not the Inquisitor. The only way that Lady Adaar manages to do what she can do is through her instincts. And do you know where instincts come from?” 

Katrina put a hand to her head. “Imagination?” 

Blackwall nodded. “And if that makes me a fool, well, I’d much rather be foolish than blind – wouldn’t you?” 

Katrina wrapped her arms around herself. 

“Someday it’s going to be you saving the world,” Blackwall said. “Kids like you, Katrina, are the only ones who have a chance of making it better.” 

“I don’t have magic,” Katrina said. 

“Neither do I!” Blackwall said. 

Katrina smiled. 

“Blackwall!” 

A sharp female voice cut through the chilly air as a giant, flame-haired woman leaped over the wall and landed in the snow. Without missing a beat, she strode towards Blackwall and Katrina. Katrina’s eyes widened. 

“Have you seen Farris? Patter is stuck at the front gate again – something to do with the rock – Andraste’s flaming ass, I’ve had enough of that damn horse—” 

Katrina squeaked. 

The woman looked around. “Is it just me or did you hear a nug?” 

“Uh… just me, ma’am,” Katrina said. Her voice had shot up several octaves thanks to her nervousness. 

“Oh!” The woman looked down at her. She seemed puzzled to be interacting with someone who was less than a third of her height. 

Blackwall put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Sinéas, this is Katrina. She lives here in Skyhold.” 

“…I see.” The Inquisitor gave Blackwall a questioning look. He shook his head and gestured subtly at Katrina. 

The Inquisitor paused. 

Katrina had never thought someone as great as her could look so… awkward. 

“I like your hair, Lady Adaar,” Katrina said. 

The Inquisitor stared at her. 

“And I think your horns are very pretty,” she added. 

The Inquisitor looked lost for words. 

“I… I….” 

She _was_ lost for words! 

“I know people – kids my age – who don’t like you,” Katrina began. “Because you’re a mage. And because you’re… you’re Qunari. But I think they don’t know what they’re talking about. I guess—” She was still speaking cautiously, but as more words flowed out of her mouth, the more confidant she felt. “—I guess what I’m trying to say is that I know having magic isn’t easy and that a lot of people are mad or angry at you because of something that’s not your fault, but I think you’re the best thing that’s happened to Haven. Because otherwise… we’d all be dead right now. So thank you.” She smiled. “And I don’t think magic’s something people should be afraid of.” 

The Inquisitor looked taken aback. Then she slowly knelt – she wasn’t anywhere close to being face-to-face to Katrina, but she did shorten the height difference somewhat – and took Katrina’s hand. 

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ve never had anyone tell me that before.” 

Katrina’s heart leapt. “Lady Adaar?” 

“Yes?” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” 

Katrina glanced at Blackwall, who smiled encouragingly at her. “Can you tell me about how you fought the dragon?” 

The Inquisitor paused. “Well… I…” She glanced at Blackwall, who tilted his head in Katrina’s direction. The Inquisitor leaned against the wall and sat down. “Sure thing, kid. I think that could be a pretty exciting story.” 

“Oh, I _know_ it’s an exciting story!” Katrina gushed. “My brother and I pretend that I’m you and he’s the dragon and then we pretend to fight to the death, but he thinks that you don’t use ice magic – or something, I wasn’t really listening to him earlier – but I think you did because dragons are all fiery and stuff, so it makes sense that they don’t like ice and…” 

It was cold that day, the day Katrina met the Inquisitor. But as she told Sinéas Adaar the story of how she fought a dragon at Haven, Katrina barely felt the chill in the air or heard the creak of branches in the wind. 

For the first time since she and her family had come to Skyhold, she was fully and completely happy. 

_the end_


End file.
